


Sweet Poison

by zonophone



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Falling In Love, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 11:42:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11058222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zonophone/pseuds/zonophone
Summary: Perona has to meet with the sister of a kid her brother Zoro's gotten in a fight at school with. Life takes it from there.





	Sweet Poison

**Author's Note:**

> wow another fic abt two charas who've never met in canon & probably never will whodave thunk it why dont u write original stories instead of stealin characters from other ppl huh

The call comes on a Wednesday.

Mihawk's secretary forwards it to Perona's salon saying “It's your brother's school” with that nasal voice.

Perona huffs. Of course Zoro would choose the week Mihawk is away on business to get in trouble. He always does.

On the other side of the line is Zoro's school counselor, whom Perona's met a couple times before, with her rough tone of voice that betrays her past as a soldier or something. Perona doesn't remember. She does remember that Belle-mere's haircut is atrocious, though.

“Think s'important, Ms Perona, that you come down. The other boy's family's comin' down too. Would be good if yous could talk.”

Now she's about to groan. When she was in school the counselor never called home. Not that Mihawk would've cared. He'd just tell Perona to tell her father that they were concerned about her obsession with what they called creepy things and she'd roll her eyes and later when Mihawk arrived home she'd tell her she'd been perfect as always, like a princess, and he'd nod his head. Zoro learned very early on, probably his first year of elementary school, to tell teachers to ask for his sister when they called. And they called often.

“I'll be there.”

 

The halls of her old high school are also not the same. Students are no longer allowed to hang their artwork and posters on the walls—Zoro says they said it was because of her but she thinks he's just trying to be kind—and they changed the tiling on the floors. Now it's opaque and lackluster. She used to be able to see her reflection on them, her patent leather buckle shoes only just a tad shinier—which was a feat—echoed delightfully on the tiles. Now, the ones she's wearing barely make a sound.

She finds Zoro sitting in a chair outside the counselor's office, his eyes shut and his arms crossed, sleeping. In the same row of chairs but on the opposite end, as if he was trying to stay as far away as possible, is that blond kid Perona doesn't remember the name of who's always creepy. From the looks of it, they were in another fight. The kid stares at her with a goofy grin so she scowls.

“Zoro,” she softly kicks Zoro's shoes.

“He's been sleeping for like thirty minutes, Ms Perona” the kid says.

She ignores him.

“Zoro,” this time her kick packs a little more strength. “I'm here because of you, you better wake up!”

Zoro cracks an eye open and stares at her with that dumb look he has on his face sometimes and shrugs himself, then sits up straighter.

“Oh, hey.”

“Oh, hey,” she mimics him. The other kid laughs and Zoro shoots him such an angry glare Perona is reminded of Mihawk.

“Shut your mouth—”

“Zoro, look at me,” he does. “What happened?”

Before he can answer the clicking of heels coming down the hall distracts all of them. The kid groans loudly.

Perona recognizes the woman as one that comes into the salon sometimes, dark sunglasses and long legs. She gets her hair trimmed, styled, and dyed a light shade of pink. Perona's never had to assist her, though, one of the perks of owning the place is that she gets to be picky about who she works with, and how often.

The kid stands up to greet his sister—that much is obvious, they look like twins practically—and Perona glances over at Zoro with one eyebrow raised, hoping he'll get the message. He just scowls.

“I didn't think you'd come,” the kid says sheepishly.

Zoro's pretending not to listen in but Perona knows he is, just as much as her. The kid's demeanor's so different now.

“So what happened?” Perona asks again, this time a little lower, an ear out for whatever the other two are talking about.

“Cosette is too busy to come every time you're in trouble and I was—”

“We got in a fight, s'all,” Zoro replies gruffly, sticking his hands into his pockets. Perona can't hear the rest of what the woman's saying.

The door next to the row of chairs opens suddenly, three girls step out of it looking like they cried for hours. Belle-mere walks behind them, a smile on her face like she's finished another day of good deeds. A cigarette dangles from her lips.

“Good to see y'all are here. C'mon in.” Her smile is almost dazzling.

 

“Dunno if y'all had time to talk,” Belle-mere says after Perona is introduced to Reiju and Sanji; she's sitting at her large desk, pictures of her daughters are lined by drawings made by them, hanging on the walls, framed on the desk, propped up against books, an ashtray, and a glass of orange juice. “But since this isn't the first time this happens—”

“What happened?” Perona asks.

“The boys were fighting during class.”

Zoro at least has the decency to shrug in his seat, again dig his hands into his pocket. The kid Sanji, though, he just crosses his legs.

“Why?” she asks again.

Maybe it's naive, or whatever, but Zoro groans. And Belle-mere just stares at her, without replying. Reiju keeps her back impossibly straight in her chair—she'd look very cute in Classic Lolita fashion, Perona thinks, so graceful and elegant, almost as much as Perona herself—and says nothing.

“Um, I ain't sure. Why were yous fighting?” Belle-mere asks the boys.

Neither of them talks, of course, so Perona has to press her brother.

“Zoro, why'd you fight with the kid?”

“Don't matter now,” he mumbles.

“Sanji,” Reiju speaks softly but sternly, “can you answer her?”

“He's an idiot,” Sanji says.

“You're an idiot,” Zoro perks up, that glare back on his face.

“Say that to my face, idiot.”

“I am, you moron.”

Belle-mere smiles again. “Okay, okay. Settle down. Thing is, don't matter why, it keeps happening.”

“So why are we here?” Reiju asks. She sounds impatient. Perona recognizes the tone because she uses it often.

“The boys' fights been disruptin' classes. I've talked to them before but I think you gotta talk to 'em too. And talk to each other.”

“Us?”

“I suggest y'all get together and try and work through this, we're only at the start of the year, would be nice if this didn't have to continue, so I think y'all should talk.”

“On our own?” Reiju asks.

Perona looks at her, blinking twice.

“I mean,” Reiju tells her, noticing she's wondering, “shouldn't there be a therapist to help?”

“You think it's that serious?” Perona directs her question at Belle-mere. Mihawk doesn't do therapy. He doesn't do much in the way of feeling things at all. Perona isn't sure what that's supposed to be for, really. Therapy that is.

“No, no. S'just kids arguin', right?”

“I ain't no kid.”

“Yes, Belle-mere,” Sanji's goofy grin sure is creepy for a fourteen year old.

Belle-mere flashes her bright smile at them once more, like she's again taken something mediocre and made it good.

 

 

Reiju slows her pace down to follow Perona's soft, almost floating strut. Her heavy flowing dress doesn't allow for wider strides.

“When do you want to do this?” she asks, looking at her phone, possibly her calendar.

The two boys are walking ahead of them, Zoro with his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched, doing his best to ignore Sanji, even though Perona can tell they're both trying to match each other's paces so neither will be the victor in their imaginary tacit race. Children.

“Um,” Perona didn't think Reiju would agree to this. There's something about the quiet respect Sanji shows her that hides some sort of detachment. Maybe she's reading too much into it because Zoro doesn't show her the respect she deserves. “I'm free Sunday. Saturday morning is fine too, but I have a client at the salon all afternoon.”

“Hm. Sunday works for me,” Reiju's frowning at her phone screen. “Give me your number, Perona. I'll call you,” at this she looks up at Perona and she's smiling. It's the first time Perona sees that smile directed at her. She's so cute, really.

 

After they exchange numbers, Reiju excuses herself and takes off down the hall, her long legs in black tights carry her with ease. Sanji trails after her, until they disappear at a corner. Perona takes Zoro back to her salon. A kind of punishment, since he hates the attention the other stylists give him, and tries to get him to talk.

“What's the problem with the kid? Other than, y'know.”

“He's just a moron.”

“I thought he was friends with your friends.” Perona guides him to one of the backwash basins almost without him noticing, placing towels around his neck then running lukewarm water over his hair. She watches him close his eyes.

“Yeah, guess so.”

“What's the problem, then?”

“Hrm... I just don't get along with'im. I don't like'im.”

“Why'd you fight today?”

“Sumthin', he started it,” Zoro sounds more and more relaxed. Perona would wash his hair whenever she needed him to spit something out. He was so easy, he'd get relaxed and talk like he didn't even know what he was doing. “He handed me a banana and told me I had a call.”

“A banana?”

“Mmhmm. Was asleep, he woke me, gave me the thing...I tried to answer cos he kept insistin'.”

“A banana?” she repeats, amused.

“Mmhmm,” at least Zoro doesn't catch her tone. “Then he called me an idiot.”

“There was no call, I take it?”

“Nuh uh...was a banana.”

“I see. Want me to touch up your dye?”

Zoro grunts his affirmative then adds “I hate'im.”

“Can't be fighting in the classroom though.”

“You won't tell Mihawk right?” now he's opened his eyes.

“About the banana?” she wants to see if he'll laugh—that booming laughter they've only heard a couple times, courtesy of Uncle Shanks.

“No! Argh! I never shoulda told ya!”

She giggles as she walks him to one of the chairs in the other area of the salon.

“We'll see after Sunday.”

“At least I ain't gotta go to school this week—ow! What's that for?”

“It's not a reward you're suspended.”

 

 

 

Reiju calls on Friday.

She sounds busy. Perona can hear rumors of people in the background. Judging by the hour, she'd venture Reiju is at work, or a restaurant, or that she works at a restaurant.

“Your place or mine? I don't live with Sanji but I can pick him up.”

So she lives alone. Perona should too, but living with Mihawk is just so much more comfortable. Besides Zoro would be hopeless without her, wouldn't even be able to find the door to the bathroom on his own.

“Mine,” she hums. The place is big enough that if Zoro doesn't want to look at Sanji's face he can get lost somewhere and disappear for years. He'll also be more comfortable. She's not too keen on spoiling him but someone has to, he's too sullen as he is. “Come for lunch.”

“We'd love to, thank you. We'll bring some food.”

“No need to worry.”

“It's no trouble. Sanji likes to cook.”

“Oh, alright. I'll text you the address.”

“Perfect. Thank you very much, Perona.” Reiju's tone is so formal Perona imagines if she were to tease her Reiju would just smile kindly and shrug it off. No fun.

After the call she finds Zoro napping on one of the lounge chairs in the terrace so she takes the one next to him, under the parasol, prods his arm with the wooden spoon she used to mix the jar of sangria she placed on the table to the other side of her.

“Your friend and his sister are coming for lunch Sunday.”

He looks at her, dazed, then finally replies.

“Not m'friend.”

“They own a restaurant?”

“Huh?”

“She said he likes to cook.”

“Don't think so. Think Luffy said they're some big shot family.”

“Huh,” she wonders what Zoro considers to be big shot. It's not like Mihawk has them living in poverty, exactly.

“Ya gonna share that?” Zoro's eyeing her round glass of sangria.

Children.

 

 

 

 

 

When the doorbell rings, Perona's just finished supervising Zoro's setting of the table. There's no help on Sundays and if Mihawk got his way there'd be no help for them any day of the week, which Perona would never allow.

“We're late because of you,” she scowls at her brother.

“You spent the entire morning curling your hair!”

“We wouldn't be doing this if not for you,” she flips her hair.

“S'useless anyway,” he tells her as they walk in tandem to the door.

She resents how tall he's grown in the last years. It's not cute at all, his chubby cheeks are gone.

“You heard Belle-mere, this is the only reason they're not kickin' you out of the kendo club, so behave.”

He at least has the sense to cut his groan short once the door is open and there stand Reiju and Sanji, sunny smiles on both their faces, large ceramic oven dishes on their hands. Reiju's are gloved in black leather, matching her long coat, hiding the short high neck pink dress that peeks out through the lapels.

“Welcome,” Perona says, taking Reiju's dish off her hands, urging with her eyes for Zoro to do the same for Sanji's (he shrugs). “Come in, thanks for coming.”

“Thank you for having us.”

“Yes, thank you Ms Perona. Your dress today is beautiful as always.”

Perona gives the kid a glance, her lips pursed, and ignores him.

“This way, you can hang your coat there” she points Reiju to the coat hanger and then the living room while she walks to the kitchen.

“Don't be a creep,” she hears Zoro tell Sanji.

“You're the creep,” the kid replies, smartly, but then sheepishly adds “sorry. My bad.”

Perona guesses Reiju shot him a look. Zoro joins her shortly after in the kitchen, carrying the dish he pried from Sanji's hands.

“Couldn't let'im bring it,” he says, shrugging.

She hands him the tray with the square sandwiches he loves so much—she remembered to find the toothpicks with cellophane wrap on top to ask Cindry to put on them last night—and thanks him silently.

 

 

 

They sit facing each other, Reiju and Sanji on one couch, Perona and Zoro on the other, with drinks on their hands.

Maybe they did need a therapist, if only to guide them through what they're supposed to do.

“So...”

“So,” Perona echoes from behind her glass of wine.

“Sanji tells me you own the salon on Thriller Bark Av.”

“I do,” Perona nods, twirling one of her curls.

“I go there,” Reiju says, her smile polite. “It's the best.”

“Oh, really? Thank you,” she's not about to reveal she already knew that if Reiju is also pretending this is information she just gained from Sanji. “Zoro couldn't tell me what you do, he doesn't know.”

“Figures,” Sanji mutters.

“I'm no snoop!”

“Yer not smart enough to be,” Sanji says under his breath, but perfectly audible.

“At least I'm not—”

“Zoro,” Perona looks at him, putting her glass down. She hopes he remembers his membership to the kendo club is on the line here.

“Yeah, whatever,” he shrugs into his seat.

“To answer your question,” Reiju says with a smile that seems out of place and has Sanji's back straighten, “I'm a lawyer at my—our father's firm. Everyone in my—our family is.”

Sanji snorts but covers it up by drinking more of his glass of sparkling water. Perona catches Zoro looking at him with curiosity, barely a trace left of his disgust.

“Oh, that's great,” Perona nods.

Reiju keeps on smiling politely.

“Sanji hasn't told me why they fought. Did Zoro?”

Perona looks at Zoro but he's looking at Sanji, who looks away. She can't fathom why Sanji wouldn't tell her. She texted Mihawk about it the minute she was done dyeing Zoro's hair. Then sent an audio message trying to imitate what she imagined sleepy Zoro's mumbling of 'Huh? A call? But that's a banana?' would've sounded like. Zoro promptly looks at her when he realizes she might open her mouth.

“No, but I'm sure it was nothing terrible,” she covers for him. Maybe she'll get him to reenact the whole thing later.

“Uh huh,” Reiju nods. “Sanji rarely gets in trouble. Whatever Zoro did—”

“I'm sorry?” Perona doesn't really care that Zoro's reputation, much like hers back in high school, is that of the thug, the delinquent, the scary kid living in the big haunted mansion with the weird dad, the gloomy goth who downed everyone—oh no, that was just her—but the implication that this whole thing, not just this one particular fight but the others too, was his fault just because little prince Sanji pretends he's a decent kid, doesn't fly.

“Well, I didn't mean anything by it, but Sanji knows he should behave—”

“So does Zoro.”

“Of course. But, what with his green moss hair, and his piercings, I don't think he views proper behavior in the same way Sanji—”

“It's Juniper green, and at least he's not some fourteen year old trying to hit on everything with a pair of boobs—”

Sanji shrugs into his seat.

“That's uncalled for,” Reiju smiles. “But fair.”

Sanji looks at her pleadingly.

“We're not here to argue which kid is better,” Perona says, sounding like a grown up (she congratulates herself). “We're trying to get them to stop fighting during class. Zoro didn't start this,” she adds. She almost managed not to get that last one out. “Sanji isn't some victim.”

Sanji's now looking at her, and for the first time she doesn't find him creepy. He looks just like the child he is.

Reiju's about to open her mouth but Sanji stops her.

“Ms Perona is right,” he says. “The moss ball and I—”

“Moss ball?” Perona looks at Zoro, unable to hide her smile.

Zoro groans, “What are you trying to say moron?”

“We fight but it's like on equal terms. It's not like—it's fine. We're tied—”

“We're not! I beat you last time!”

“You wish!”

“Sanji,” Reiju doesn't raise her voice but Sanji sits up straight again, he'd been leaning forward to get closer to Zoro, his fists clenched. “So you've been fighting... as friends?”

“Ugh no,” both kids groan, appalled at the very idea. Perona giggles.

“Not as friends,” Sanji says, but he's back to his polite tone. “Just, y'know—”

“Rivals,” Perona supplies. “Like Mihawk and Shanks.”

Zoro scowls at her. “That's disgusting.”

“You'll be together forever, my dear little Zoro, isn't that wonderful?”

Sanji and Reiju watch them as Perona pinches Zoro's cheeks and kisses the top of his head.

“Who are Mihawk and Shanks?” Sanji asks Zoro.

“No one,” he manages to pry himself off of Perona's grip. He glares at her. “No one, right Perona?”

She giggles again.

“Our father and his, well, rival,” Perona tells them. “They've been together for decades now.”

“You're disgusting,” Zoro tells her. “You bring everyone down, woman.”

She smacks the back of his head.

“Do I have to heat up the dishes you brought over?” she asks Reiju who looks at her brother.

“Oh, yes. If you want, I can do it, Ms Perona.”

“Eh, sure. Zoro show your riv—ouch! That hurt! Take him to the kitchen,” Perona rubs her arm, watching the boys leave for the kitchen.

Reiju smiles politely at her. That smile hasn't changed or faltered throughout the conversation. She's cute like a doll, that way.

“Your father's in politics, isn't he?”

“Um, yeah.”

Reiju nods.

Perona's glad they avoided things from escalating. She didn't want to sour this by fighting with Reiju over which of the kids started it all. She wonders though why Reiju would adamantly believe Sanji's so innocent, why a kid with a personality firm enough to bite back at Zoro's would ever let himself be bullied around. His façade of the perfect darling little master isn't that good, after all, if it crumbles whenever Zoro opens his mouth (not that Perona isn't aware just how much of a pain Zoro is). Surely Reiju's seen through it.

“I'm sorry about before,” Reiju says, but she doesn't look apologetical. Her expression is the same. “Zoro seems like a good kid.”

“He is when he wants to be. Sanji too, I guess. When he's not being a creep.”

Reiju lets out a laugh. “All my brothers are like that, sadly. At least Sanji tries to be chivalrous about it.”

“You have other brothers?”

“Three more. Two of them are attending Germa Academy. The other studies Law at North Blue.”

“Germa Academy?”

“It's a school for gifted students, I went there too. Everyone in my family has.”

“Oh,” Perona says. She doesn't mention Sanji isn't going there, though.

 

 

It's Sanji that calls them over to the dining room, announcing the meal is ready. He looks like a little maître, with his slim black trousers and dark gray polo shirt. If only she could get Zoro to dress that smartly too, he would be so cute, like when she used to dress him up before he was self aware enough to care.

The boys are bickering through everything, and Perona swears she sees Zoro struggling to contain himself from breaking Sanji's nose with his fist, it's almost funny.

“This is great, Sanji! Did you really make it?” she says after taking her first bite. She didn't actually expect the dish to be this good. Zoro can barely boil water. She's honestly amazed, feels her eyes open wide.

Sanji looks embarrassed and pleased. It's borderline creepy.

“I sure did, Ms Perona,” he says in sing song. “Especially for you.”

“Well, thank you, Sanji. It's good isn't it, Zoro?”

Zoro's shoving the food inside his mouth indistinctly, like he shoves bread sticks or ice or cereal in the morning. “S'okay,” he shrugs, his mouth full.

“You wouldn't know good food if it—” Sanji starts but Reiju smiles at him and he shuts up.

“Sanji's really talented,” Reiju says. “He's an apprentice at the Baratie, he used their kitchen to make these.”

“Oh, that really good restaurant by the sea, remember, Zoro? We went there for my birthday last year,” she claps her hands. Mihawk had ordered their famous chocolate and marzipan cake, asked them to put skulls made out of sugar on top of it, the big softie. “That's very impressive Sanji.”

Sanji's beaming at her, relishing in the attention. Again, it's not as creepy as it always is, he looks like a kid. A cute little brother, a lot cuter than Zoro who's hunched over his plate, chewing loudly.

“Do you wanna be a cook?”

Sanji nods for a millisecond before his smile falters, and he looks at Reiju, then back down at his plate.

Perona looks at Reiju herself, trying to make sense out of Sanji's sudden change of heart. Even Zoro's stopped chewing and is looking at Sanji, frowning with that look he gets when he doesn't understand something (which is pretty often).

Reiju's the only one who's still smiling, same as always.

“Sanji's going to be a lawyer. The apprenticeship is so he learns more about how to run successful businesses, the kind of discipline it requires.”

“Oh,” Perona and Zoro exchange a look.

“Um, you have a great kitchen, Ms Perona,” Sanji says, to break the silence that's settled between the four of them.

“Ugh, he kept going on and on about it, wouldn't shut up.”

“At least I got hobbies, you dumbass, what you do, nap?”

“Oh, thank you. We rarely use it, really.”

That shuts Sanji up. He looks at her like she's said something terrible. Perona looks at Reiju who raises her eyebrows, indicating she doesn't know why Sanji's giving her that look.

“That's such a waste, it's a great kitchen.”

“Well, uh,” Perona sips her wine. “You're welcome to use it, if you want.”

“What!?” both Zoro and Sanji ask at the same time, in different tones.

“Zoro, no one uses it. It's fine, right, Reiju?”

“Oh sure,” Reiju looks at Sanji, smiling. “As long as it doesn't interfere with his school. And if this puts an end to the fighting.”

“Really?” Sanji looks at his sister with such hope it's almost pathetic, Perona thinks. He'd be a cute brother because, like Zoro, he'd also be very easy to bully.

Reiju nods.

“Thank you so much, Reiju,” he beams at her and then turns to Perona. “Thank you Ms Perona, I'm so grateful. I won't bother you, I promise.”

“You'll bother me, you're a pest.”

“Shut up, moss head.”

“Perona,” Reiju catches her attention, twirling the wine inside her glass. “Why did you decide to open up a salon?”

“Oh,” Perona twirls one of her curls, “I liked doing my hair, and Zoro's, and our nails—” Zoro kicks her under the table so she smacks his hand “—and other people's too. Beauty school was fun but working on someone's else's schedule seemed exhausting. It was hard at first but once I got a couple of big name clients the rest started coming in. It hasn't been long but I've been lucky.”

“It's not just luck,” Reiju says kindly. “Everyone at the firm loves your salon. Even my brother Niji.”

Perona notes that Sanji tenses at the name. Zoro does too because he looks at her after looking at him.

“Oh, thank you. Next time you drop by let me know.”

“Really? I have an appointment on the 3rd, actually.”

“Perfect,” Perona claps again. This time she notices Reiju's smile is a little wider, fonder. She doesn't want to say it looks less fake, but that's the impression she gets. It's not a smile only out of politeness.

 

“I'm glad we did this,” Perona says when Zoro and Sanji go to the kitchen to get dessert.

“I am too. I didn't think it'd turn out this well.”

Perona smiles at her.

“At least now with their rivalry sorted hopefully they'll stop fighting in class. They can wait util after school.”

Reiju laughs and Perona finds it beautiful. She's so cute.

“I hope your kitchen doesn't suffer much.”

“Not more than when Uncle Shanks is over. As long as I get to eat good food, it's alright.”

“You know,” Reiju's tone shifts. It sounds almost intimate. Perona leans in closer to her involuntarily. “Sanji really is a good kid. I bet he's more than thrilled to come over and use your kitchen, he's been dying to cook some of the stuff he's learned at Baratie. Thank you for that.”

“Oh, no problem! Doesn't he ever cook at his place?”

Reiju's smile falters.

“Not really. There's the cooks, Dad doesn't like him bothering them.”

“Oh, well, don't worry.”

 

 

 

The 3rd comes around after Perona and Reiju have spent the past days texting intermittently.

It started because Perona texted her a picture of a cute pink bear she'd seen advertised in a magazine, dressed with an ascot that looked like the one Reiju was wearing the day Belle-mere called them into her office. Reiju replied “It looks like me!!” and hours later sent Perona a picture of two heart-shaped onigiri. Perona hadn't had good onigiri in years so she squealed at her screen, showed the picture to Zoro who didn't care, and after asking, Reiju told her Sanji had made them for her. Reiju sent a winking emoji as reaction to Perona's overwhelmed all caps message about how cute it was. She replied with the ghost one. When Sanji showed up at the house to use the kitchen, Perona sent Reiju a picture of the dishes he made for them, letting her know the fated rivals had managed not to throw more than one blow each. The next day he did, they weren't so lucky, so she included a picture of both Sanji and Zoro's bruises, along with one of the food. Reiju replied she was very very sorry. Perona even recorded Zoro's reaction during dinner with Mihawk, when Mihawk's phone started ringing to the tune of Raffi's song “Bananaphone”. It had been spectacular because Mihawk didn't even flinch, he wiped his mouth, and said it was impolite to pick up the phone during dinner, so he'd let it ring, his face expressionless throughout. The video was shaky, Perona couldn't stop laughing, and Zoro didn't know which of them to be angrier at. In the end she didn't send it because she remembered Reiju still didn't know what had prompted their reunion that Sunday. But she'd tell her, soon. She couldn't keep that hidden too long, especially when she found herself laughing about it at the salon when the day was particularly slow.

It was strange, though, to see her in person again. Perona was reminded of just how commanding Reiju's presence was, how cute her smile, how there was something odd she couldn't pinpoint, but nothing she didn't like.

She washes Reiju's hair on the basin, massaging her scalp gently. Reiju hums softly, her eyes lidded.

“Sanji's coming by later today,” Perona tells her.

“Mmhmm, he told me. He'll make the heart onigiri for you.”

“That's amazing! I love those!”

Reiju chuckles.

“I know, it was cute, how excited you were.”

Perona stops massaging her scalp, pours shampoo on her hands, and then resumes, creating foam. She brushes her fingers against Reiju's neck and watches her shiver.

“Are you busy after this? You can come over.”

Reiju tilts her head, leaning into Perona's touch, and then lets out a pleased sigh.

“Sure.”

When she's applying dye on Reiju's hair she can still feel the ghost of her touch on her fingers, like electricity.

“Still busy with work?” Reiju mentioned it in one of her late night texts, how she'd only then arrived home.

“Mm, the case is over now. I don't like litigating and my field is copyright law but my father asked me. Until Niji graduates he's gonna keep asking.”

“How many lawyers are there in the firm?”

“Hm... about 600 around the world.”

“Does he really need you to do it, then?”

“Of course,” Reiju looks at Perona through the mirror in front of her, her expression harder. “I'm his daughter.”

“Is that why Sanji has to be a lawyer too? I don't think he wants to—”

Reiju turns the chair around, leaving Perona with the brush full of dye in the air, her other hand suspended.

“You wouldn't understand, Perona.”

Perona blinks at her.

“I'm sorry, it's a delicate subject.” Reiju turns around again, to face the mirror, keeps watching Perona's face through the mirror. “Maybe one day I'll tell you.” The smile she offers is sincere, but sad.

Perona nods at her reflection and keeps dyeing her hair.

 

While Sanji's in the kitchen, Perona, Reiju, Zoro and Mihawk, not too enthused about all the people in his house, sit on the lounge chairs in the terrace, drinking sangria—water for Zoro—and watch the ducks splash their wings on the small pond in the garden.

“It's nice here,” Reiju says. “Relaxing.”

“As kids we used to watch movies projected on the wall in the summer.”

“That sounds nice.”

“You and Sanji can come this summer too. We still do when Mihawk's around.”

Mihawk lowers his hat over his eyes, which is his way of telling Perona she shouldn't just be inviting people over, but that's never stopped her before.

“Since I moved into my apartment I rarely have times like this, in a garden.”

“Where's your apartment?”

“In a high rise downtown, close to the office. I'd invite you over but it's barely furnished. I just live there.”

Perona thinks Reiju's words over and decides not to pry.

“You can come here any time.”

Reiju smiles at her behind her dark sunglasses.

 

Sanji comes into the terrace carrying a large tray with heart-shaped onigiri. Perona claps, snaps a picture of them with her phone, and he sways at the attention. Zoro stuffs his mouth with two of them and takes a third one immediately. Sanji doesn't protest though. He leaves the tray and goes back inside after telling them the curry will be ready in no time.

 

The five of them have dinner at the large table. Mihawk's already used to Sanji's weekly presence, and he barely acknowledged Reiju when she showed up with Perona, as he always used to do when Perona was younger and she brought a friend over.

“It's delicious as always, Sanji,” Reiju tells her brother.

He smiles his thanks and Perona and Zoro exchange a look. Mihawk looks at them too.

“How's the apprenticeship going, Sanji?” Perona asks him.

Sanji swallows and nods. “Fine,” he says with a small smile.

“You with Zeff?” Mihawk's voice is deep and often unheard. Sanji must be startled.

“Y-yes, sir.”

Zoro and Perona look at each other, both mimicking Sanji's “sir”.

“He's good.”

“He's the best,” Sanji says with pride and a wide grin, cut short abruptly, as if he just caught himself doing something wrong.

Reiju smiles at him and Sanji nods but the sunny smile doesn't return to his face.

Zoro grunts. “How come you cook like shit, then?”

Sanji looks so offended he seems at a loss for words, and Reiju's smiling wider now. Even Mihawk's eyes crinkle.

The comeback they're expecting doesn't come though. Sanji fumes in silence in his seat, then helps Zoro clear the table. Perhaps they're having their fight in the kitchen—if the sound of cutlery clanking on the floor is any indication, they are—because they've learned to keep their fights for later, so as not to disrupt class.

“I'm glad to see they're getting along so well.”

“That's how rivalries are, right Mihawk?”

Mihawk doesn't say anything, just fixes Perona with a stare, like he doesn't know what she means.

“Belle-mere hasn't called in a while, at least.”

“Yeah, she hasn't called here either.”

“Why would Belle-mere call?”

“Oh, nothing,” Perona almost forgot she promised Zoro not to say anything. Aside from the banana phone. “The kids are working on a project together.”

When they return Mihawk asks them what the project they're working on is. Zoro looks at him dumbfounded, ever the slow one, but Sanji doesn't miss a beat to reply “We're trying to make a banana into a functional phone,” deadpanning the words. Perona laughs so much she almost, almost blows wine out of her nose. Zoro slams his fists on the table and points at Sanji, “What did you say you moron?” and Mihawk lowers his gaze, stares at the tablecloth in front of him in order not to laugh. Only Reiju seems lost.

 

After dinner, Perona takes Reiju farther into the woods behind the house, past the pond. Mihawk planted Douglas firs when Perona moved into the house on her eighth birthday, because she told him they reminded her of Moriah.

“It's beautiful,” Reiju whispers.

Perona wonders if the expression she wears is closer to her real one. She looks awed and sharp but vulnerable, almost tired, looking around the deep forest. Perona tells her about the banana and Reiju's laughter bubbles up from inside her, and she closes her eyes. She looks so beautiful. A breeze blows her hair out of her face and Perona finds it so striking, with her unusual eyebrows, she wonders why she covers a side of it with her bangs.

“I should go, take Sanji back home,” she says when a bat flaps its wings flying low, close to them. It's gotten dark.

 

When they reach the house, Sanji and Zoro are in the terrace, fingers pointing each other, trading insults like they were playing a game, each with more bite than the last, but adorably wholesome, all things considered, for Perona's standards. She can pinpoint at least seven fatal flaws both of them are sure to feel insecure and self-conscious about, but neither is cruel enough to bring them up. Maybe they don't even see them.

After the Vinsmokes leave Mihawk, who's sitting at his large dramatic armchair in the living room, lowers the newspaper he's hiding behind and looks at both Zoro and Perona.

“What? Something on Zoro's face?”

“That kid, his sister.”

“What of 'em?”

“He's different around her.”

Perona and Zoro look at each other, then back at Mihawk. They both nod.

“Dunno why, though,” Zoro says. “Seems he likes her but...”

“He changes, it isn't a lot but it's noticeable,” Perona agrees, crossing her arms on her chest.

Mihawk raises the newspaper once more, the topic is over. Zoro shrugs and walks off to his room mumbling “Night”, so Perona leaves for hers wishing Mihawk a good night he grunts a reply to.

 

In her room, lying on her stomach atop her bed, she types out a text, her fingernails clicking against the glass, and her thumb hovers over the “Send” button. She shouldn't pry but she's curious. She likes knowing what lies beneath the surface. She ends up sending only “It was nice to see you today!!!” and nothing more. Hours later, she's woken by the glow of her phone showing a reply from Reiju: “You too. Let's have lunch Friday at Baratie.”

 

 

Perona closes her eyes and listens to the crying of the gulls, the soft roaring of the waves. Sea breeze gently blows her hair—she used up almost a whole can of hairspray to avoid the humid air from ruining her perfect curls—and she can taste the salt in the air. The sand near the boardwalk is fine like dust and clings to her shoes but slides just as easily as she walks the wooden planks leading to the Baratie, set on rocks the waves crash against, splashing tiny drops of water like mist. She finds Reiju sitting at one of the tables on the wooden balcony, above the rocks, almost suspended over the sea. Perona can see the whirlpools of foam and seawater forming through the cracks. Against the horizon, Reiju looks beautiful, her chin resting on her fist, and she smiles lazily at Perona when she sees her.

“You've been here long?”

“Hm, I come here sometimes, when Sanji's at school, so Zeff can tell me how he's doing. I got here early so I could talk to him”

“Oh,” Perona somehow didn't expect Reiju would.

“Is it that shocking?”

“I didn't think you approved.”

“Sometimes I forget I don't need to keep up the charade in front of other people.”

Perona tilts her head. She knows for a fact she looks extremely cute when she does this. Reiju's smile indicates she agrees.

“The Cassoulet and the Tartiflette are the best here, you won't find better anywhere else.”

“Ah, yes. Tartiflette—sounds nice. Cute.”

“It's incredible,” Reiju's chin is back to resting on her fist, the sea breeze blows her hair away from her face and Perona can see her expression changing. “Sanji's is just as good, it might surpass this one in time.”

“He works hard.”

“I'm proud of him. As a child he tried cooking for our mother. My father didn't like that he did, but she loved it. He's just like her. I don't even know if he remembers how much he's like her. She was a kind woman but she played favorites, was awed by every little thing Sanji ever did. I didn't have it in me to envy Sanji, though. He was so small when she died.”

The breeze blows gently between them. A waiter comes take their orders, Perona asks for white wine and Reiju gets a rosé, and they order the dishes Reiju recommended, and chèvre chaud and artichokes for starters. Perona watches the waiter leave, hears the chatter of people in nearby tables, and is distracted for a second before Reiju speaks again.

“I'm grateful he spends time at your house. You're all like a real family. I'm sure he loves it.”

Perona watches her expressions, how guarded they are, how little they do to hide herself. She's suddenly aware that Reiju is slowly opening up. Testing how deep the waters are before she throws her shoes in, before she makes herself walk the plank.

“I like it when he's there. Zoro's annoying someone else and I get good food out of it. Mihawk's even learning about which wines go better with which foods, maybe he'll start taking an interest in eating now.”

“I'm happy he has all of you, this place, and his friend Luffy too, I just wish...”

Perona waits for her to finish, her eyes wide.

“Oh—look. There come our drinks.”

The waiter comes with the tray and Perona feels the moment is lost.

 

Before the second course, Perona realizes she has to meet Reiju halfway, too, if she's willing to let her open up.

“I never met my mother,” she says. It follows Reiju's story about the first time she saw snow, wrapped in her mother's arms as a child. “My father was a good man, took care of me as best he could, he never spoke of her, I don't think he knew her. I went to live with Mihawk on my eighth birthday, he planted the trees behind the house so I'd remember my father. He's softhearted to the point where I'm not sure he even knows how much,” Perona smiles, “Zoro came to live with us not long after, he was a baby, could barely say a couple of words, and was never scared. For a man who supposedly values his solitude above all else, Mihawk sure is keen on adopting stray kids he pretends to have no patience for. We're lucky, I suppose, but it isn't something I'd go around telling him or Zoro.”

“You are,” Reiju says. “That's not very common.”

She's not looking at Perona anymore, her gaze has shifted to the horizon, where two seagulls take turns diving into the water in search of food, plunging in head first.

“My Dad stopped speaking about our mother right after the funeral,” Reiju's still watching the seagulls, her voice seems faraway because of the breeze.

The waiter comes bringing their second courses and Reiju finally turns towards Perona again.

“What do you think?” she gestures towards the dishes in front of them.

“They look delicious!” Perona claps her hands.

Perona takes a bite and is instantly sure Reiju was right, this Tartiflette is definitely the best out there, even if it's the first Perona's ever tried. She slices a portion with her fork and extends it to Reiju who blinks but then leans in, her chin softly grazing Perona's left hand, which is positioned below the fork, and she takes the bite with a smile.

“It's amazing!” Perona's chirping almost. “I love it!”

Again Reiju's laughter rises like bubbles on champagne.

“Here, try mine,” she says, offering her own fork to Perona, placing her hand under Perona's chin.

“It's also amazing!” Perona's barely finished swallowing. “When we came here last year we had pasta and it was great but this is—the best!”

Perona fills her mouth up enough for her cheeks to round, a habit Zoro has called gross despite the fact that he can't close his mouth long enough for food not to be visible.

“I'm happy you're enjoying it.”

She nods, mouth full, eyes closed in delight.

“How old were you?” Perona asks, wiping her mouth with the napkin. “When your mom died?”

Reiju's eyes wander upwards, then down at her plate.

“Seventeen. Sanji was just short of eight. I think things changed but on the other hand they'd been the same for a while.”

Perona's eyes are full of questions. Reiju can probably read them, she probably understands. But she doesn't say anything else, lets out an airy laugh and asks Perona if she has her bathing suit.

“It's like 19° and overcast, of course not.”

Reiju laughs. “That's okay, I'll lend you mine.”

“For what?” Perona's about choking now.

“A little farther down the bay, the rocks form this sort of pool, the waves are calm. I like it there. I wanted to go after lunch, with you.”

“Don't you have to work?”

“I took the afternoon off, thought we could go. You're free right?”

Perona plays with what's left of her food. It is cold but not colder than nights in which she's gotten in the ocean and floated lazily on the gentle waves. She nods.

“I am.”

 

They walk slowly side by side. The breeze is gentle and not too cool, but when the waves crash against the shoreline and it splashes over, hitting Perona's hands and her face delicately, shivers run down her spine and the base of her neck shudders. Reiju carries a large purse and promises Perona she has a towel inside there, at least, in case Perona gets too cold.

Reiju guides Perona through the rocks, Perona's careful in her steps but a lifetime by the sea, running around the rocks, has given her more skills than necessary to never slip, and they reach a secluded area where, just as Reiju told her, the rocks close up almost as in a circle, the water comes in with crashing waves but trickles out gently to create a natural pool of clear water. Perona can see the bottom, the barnacles and the starfish and the tiny crabs shifting under wet sand. Reiju shrugs off her dress, folds it gently to place it inside her bag, and stands in front of Perona in her underwear, dark and simple, holding out her bathing suit and a large towel. Perona's embarrassed.

“You're gonna swim like that?”

“I only have one suit. You should take it. I don't mind, really.”

Perona looks at her—stares really—feels her skin flush, prickling almost all over.

“I'll have to change right here?”

Reiju winks, then turns and slowly dips her foot in the water—“It's not that cold!”—which leaves Perona to undress and put on the one piece suit with her back also turned, out of some new found modesty, a kind of embarrassment she finds adolescent and naive but also cute. She ties her hair up in a bun blindly, a seasoned expert at managing the amount and volume and keeping it from getting wet with seawater, it ruins her curls. When she's ready Reiju's into the water up to her waist, leaning against one of the rocks, her arms crossed over it, looking at Perona who comes and sits right next to her, dips her legs in the water and shivers with exaggeration. Reiju turns to watch her, chuckling softly, and Perona reaches out her hand to brush Reiju's bangs off her face, holds her hair there so she can admire Reiju's face—the awe and surprise etched in her features followed by a smile that's full of intention—and doesn't move a muscle when Reiju moves closer, in front of her, places her hands on Perona's thighs, and stands on her tiptoes so Perona knows she has to lean in to meet her lips, salty and warm and soft. It's a chaste kiss. Then Reiju pulls Perona down by her waist, into the pool made by the sea, and Perona crosses her arms behind Reiju's neck, over her shoulders, feels Reiju's hands on her hips under the water—she's shivering not only from the cold—and tilts her head, opens her mouth for another kiss, meets Reiju's tongue with her teeth, her own tongue, her lips. Her hands slide down Reiju's body, feel the fabric of her underwear—the bubbles forming on its surface from contact with the water—and the coldness of her skin against the warmth of her mouth and her kisses.

It isn't long before Perona's lower jaw starts trembling and Reiju laughs into the kiss.

“Maybe we should get out.”

Perona nods against Reiju's cheeks.

“I wanted to do that since we met,” Reiju says in a breathy voice.

“So it's not only your brothers who are like that?” Perona's voice comes out lower than she expects, barely a rumor over the sound of the sea.

Reiju laughs against Perona's neck, tickling her skin.

They dry themselves with the towel and Perona changes out of the bathing suit, again turning away from Reiju with a flushed face and her eyebrows knotted, sticking her tongue out when Reiju teases her for it.

After they're dressed they take a stroll on the rocks, their shoes hanging from their hooked fingers, their hands entwined, and exchange kisses here and there that taste like the breeze coming in from the sea.

Reiju's phone rings and she lets go of Perona's hand, answers it with a smile that's wiped immediately, and doesn't speak a word other than “I understand” and suddenly she has to go.

“Niji's home,” Reiju says with urgency, biting her lip. “I'll text you later, Perona,” she promises after they say goodbye on the road in front of the Baratie.

 

 

A text does come later but it isn't what Perona expects.

Zoro and Mihawk both look up at her from their plates at the dinner table when she reads it, her brows furrowed.

“What is it?” Zoro says around his food, mouth full.

She looks up at him, blinks twice. “Reiju's saying she took Sanji to the hospital because there was an accident.”

Perona types back a reply, asking Reiju if she needs her to go.

“He okay?” Zoro says, betraying himself and the casually studied air of indifference he puts on.

“What happened?” Mihawk asks too. Big softie, it only took around four visits for him to grow a soft spot for the kid.

“She didn't say.” Her phone vibrates with another message then. “He's in surgery now. I'll go wait with her.”

Mihawk nods as Perona gets up from the table to collect her things. Zoro hovers behind her at the door when she's taking out the car keys, hands deep in the pockets of his sweatpants.

“You wanna come too?”

He shrugs then trails behind her on the walk from the front door to the front seat all the same, grunts when he's inside Mihawk's car, seatbelt on, as if she was forcing him to go to his elementary school festival and he had no choice.

They get Reiju coffee and a snack from the hospital cafe and find her in the waiting room, eyes and fingers on her phone. She looks up at them and smiles.

“Just a minute, it's work.”

Zoro and Perona stand in front of her, looking around in case a nurse or a doctor is coming by, until Reiju is done typing. Then she stands, kisses Perona chastely on the cheek, hugs her, and thanks her for coming.

“Sorry, my Dad needed me to finish some papers and mail them to him,” she lets go of the hug.

“What happened?” Perona asks.

“He, uh,” Reiju looks at Zoro, the concern painted on his face as if not only did whatever happened worried him but also the fact that it did was a pain in itself, “went through a glass door in the house. He'll have stitches in most of his body, the surgery's for his foot, one of his toes. He's been in there for over an hour but the doctors said he'll be fine.”

She sits when she says this, clearly exhausted, so Perona takes the seat next to her, holding her hand. Zoro sits in a chair facing them.

“How'd that happen?” Zoro has to clear his throat before he speaks. It isn't because his voice still cracks from puberty, though.

Both him and Perona stare at Reiju expectantly. Her smile is oddly reassuring and concerning at the same time.

“Um, I don't—” Reiju's phone vibrates with a loud hum right at that moment and she checks, opening it up to read, then starts typing. “I'm sorry, more work.”

“Your dad? Why is he—why isn't he here?”

Reiju looks up at her, then at Zoro, and back to Perona.

“He—he—” there's cracks in her voice, threatening to break, so Perona leans her head on her shoulder, rubs circles on her back.

“It's fine, you don't need to answer.”

Reiju puts the phone down on the chair next to her and covers her face with one of her hands. From the corner of her eye Perona catches Zoro looking away. She feels the quiet sobs through the touch of her hand on Reiju's back.

 

Sanji's in surgery for five hours and takes another one to wake from the anesthesia.

Zoro fell asleep on Perona's shoulder about an hour after they arrived, when Reiju went again to ask the doctors how things were going and he changed seats so he could lean on her. Reiju rested her head on Perona's lap and Perona pretended to make a quiet fuss over how she was the one they expected to stay awake.

 

They visit Sanji in post-op and he looks confused—from the anesthesia but also probably from the fact that Zoro and Perona are there too.

“Guess you'll have to go easy on me from now on,” Sanji tells Zoro, his speech a little slurred.

“Yer only sayin' that cos you know you wouldn't win if I didn't, injured or not.”

Sanji tries to raise his finger, to point at Zoro, and tries to say hey in a probably menacing way but it comes out weak, slowed down by the anesthesia and the exhaustion.

“You should just rest,” Reiju says. “I'll take you home at noon.”

Sanji looks so shocked at the prospect Perona's even taken aback. It's almost as if the idea is enough to wake him up cold.

“Please, Reiju, you can't, they'll—” he says weakly, looks at Zoro and Perona and shuts his mouth.

Perona watches Reiju's lips tremble, she's aware of all the pieces, the way they fall apart, the way they fall into place together, they way it all fits. She places her hand on Reiju's back.

“Sanji can come with us,” she whispers.

Reiju studies her eyes for a moment and then hangs her head with a smile that's neither sad nor sly. It's more like surrender. Perona wants to think she's surrendering her mask. For now.

 

 

 

 

 

The call comes just as Perona's watching Sanji cook in the kitchen, a crutch to support his still healing right foot, and Zoro's bregudgingly offered help, their lazy bickering as they jostle into each other on purpose or accident equally.

Reiju drives them through town and parks some blocks away from the beach. The breeze blows fresh and cool through the streets leading up to the sea, Perona's curls are swept back, flapping behind her, and they walk hand in hand.

It's been a week since Sanji's surgery and Perona's dropped the guardedness that had her refraining from prying or even pushing. After Sanji agreed to be taken to Mihawk's mansion (protesting, though, that Zeff had already told him he could rent a room at his small apartment when he turned 18, so he wouldn't be there long, anyway) Perona hadn't been able to avoid it.

It hadn't been anything dramatic. Reiju's mask had fallen back into place. She'd smiled and told Perona she didn't understand how things were. And that this was her family, it was different. Perona told her she understood enough, she'd caught the slivers of truth that dangled from the words that Reiju couldn't share, and she knew Reiju understood too. That it had nothing to do with family.

They barely talked afterwards. A text here and there, mostly from Reiju. Perona realized she had underestimated the depths of her suffering, her self-loathing. Her performance is almost always impeccable but at the end of the day the curtains are drawn on everyone.

“There's nothing you've done that can't be amended,” Perona tells Reiju when they're by the pool of water where they first kissed and Reiju's wrapped in her arms, crying into her chest.

“I haven't done anything,” Reiju says, a smile on her face that speaks so much about how little she thinks of herself, “that's the problem. I never did.” She sniffles and Perona tells her not to mess up her dress so Reiju laughs. “I wanted to ignore it—he's so—different. He's a good kid. He sees good in people even when they don't have any. I wish he'd be less like our mother, he wouldn't have—he wouldn't see any good in me.”

“There's good in you,” Perona says, not softly, not gently. This isn't a matter of plying and accepting.

“I let this happen, for so long. I pretended it wasn't there.”

“There's nothing that can't be amended,” Perona tells her. “It isn't over. There will be time, everything can work out.”

Reiju laughs. “You sure are optimistic for the weird goth girl who was a downer.”

“Hey!” Perona huffs her cheeks, “I told you never to mention that again! Anyway, I'm always optimistic, that's the kind of girl I am. There's nothing that's so terrible that you can't find beauty in it, even poison tastes sweet.”

Reiju leans against Perona's chest again, burying her face. She whispers thank you so softly the sea roars over her words. Perona knows things don't change this fast, that it doesn't even depend on her. But she sees Reiju's trying to meet her words halfway, struggling to believe them against herself. And she knows there's room to grow.

 


End file.
